a hand through his already dishevelled hair, he strode towards the door. Anna squeezed her eyes shut as he passed within a few feet of her, unable to trust herself not to reach out and touch the body that had haunted her dreams all night. At the door he paused and looked at her with great seriousness.
‘How good are you at swimming?’
‘Very good.’
He nodded gravely. ‘It’s probably about ten kilometres back to shore. Just as well you brought your bikini.’
Anna gave a howl of rage, picked up a book and hurled it in the direction of his head. It missed and she reached for another, but he was too quick for her. The next thing she knew, he was beside her and had caught her wrist in a steely grip.
‘Enough.’
She let herself relax completely for a moment, until she felt his fingers slacken slightly, then seized her chance and gave an almighty lunge to break free.
‘Not enough. Not nearly enough.’
Her only thought was to put as much distance between them as possible, but the bed was in the way. Clasping the sheet to her, she leapt on to it and stood, legs apart, chest heaving, looking down at him.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, now you come to mention it …’
In one swift movement he had reached out and swept her legs from beneath her so that she tumbled down on to the soft cushion of pillows. High on adrenalin, she struggled upright, but he was already on top of her, pinning her arms above her head with one strong hand as easily as if she had been a child. Above her, only inches away from her face, his chest curved. If she lifted her head she could probably brush his nipple with her lips. Her breath was coming in huge, shaky gasps, but the rise and fall of his chest was as steady as ever.
Frantically she thrashed beneath him, desperately trying to ignore the treacherous, tell-tale stickiness at the top of her thighs, praying he wouldn’t notice that she was virtually at the point of orgasm.
Their eyes met and locked. Neither of them spoke and the only sound was the ragged gasp of Anna’s breathing.
His eyes glittered down into hers, narrow and knowing. Slowly, lazily he reached out with his free hand and trailed a leisurely finger along her collar-bone. She was no longer holding the sheet—all it would take would be one flick of his wrist and she’d be naked and exposed to his glittering gaze.
‘If you were hoping to persuade me to take you back to shore, this is hardly the best way to go about it.’
Her eyes flashed fire and fury at him.
‘Why? Would you prefer it if I begged?’ she spat.
He laughed huskily and released her wrists. ‘Amore mio, that would be equally alluring, and therefore equally counter-productive.’
She rolled out from beneath him, not trusting herself to spend one more second in such close proximity with his long golden body. ‘I’m not hoping to persuade you of anything. I’m demanding that you take me back. Today.’
‘Or else?’
‘Or else I’ll call the police.’
‘You have your mobile?’
‘You know I haven’t’
She had nothing, and he knew it. Not a change of clothes, not a toothbrush, and certainly not a mobile. Furiously she swung her legs out of the bed and stood up, yanking the sheet from under him and wrapping it around herself again.
He sighed and stood up.
‘So I guess you’ll be wanting me to lend you my satellite phone, which is a bit much considering you intend to use it to have me arrested for … well, what? Kidnapping you? Forcing myself upon you against your will?’
She blushed. ‘No.’
If only.
Unhurriedly he ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up in spiky golden tufts that only served to accentuate his perfect bone structure. Turning towards the door, he said, ‘In that case, may I just suggest you come along for the ride? You never know, you might learn something.’
She tossed her head and threw him a disdainful look. ‘What could I possibly learn from you?’
He paused and half turned back, studying her silently for a moment with his head tilted to one side.
‘We’re heading for a property I finished work on last year. It’s been bought by a certain celebrity with a bit of an environmental conscience and developed to be as environmentally friendly as possible. I’d like to show it to you. Maybe you’ll learn not to believe everything that’s been written about me. Maybe you’ll find I’m not the devil incarnate after all.’
‘I doubt it,’ she spat. But he had already gone and she was speaking to a closed door.
CHAPTER SIX
TWO hours later Anna had to admit that, whatever Angelo Emiliani was, life aboard his yacht wasn’t at all bad. She had idled away some time in the spa pool, until the steward, Paulo, had brought her a delicious brunch of fresh fruit and warm, sweet brioche and coffee, and now she was lounging on the soft white cushions feeling heavy and replete.
There was something very liberating about being out in the middle of the ocean. Something therapeutic about literally sailing away from your problems. Last night, and Saskia’s malice, seemed light years ago. Here there was no need to apologise for who she was.
Who she wasn’t.
She had spent her early life feeling torn between England and France—Ifford Park and Château Belle-Eden—but, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back against the cushioned lounger, she realised she’d missed the obvious solution. Somewhere in between.
‘Anna.’
Her eyes opened slowly and she stretched luxuriously. ‘Hmm?’
‘I don’t know what you do for a real job, but you certainly could sleep on a professional basis. It’s time to wake up. We’re here.’
Anna stumbled to her feet quickly. Too quickly. There was a roaring in her ears and she almost lost her balance.
Angelo’s hand shot out to steady her and when the fog cleared from behind her eyes she found herself staring at the bronzed plane of his chest. She shook him off and took a step backwards.
‘I don’t usually sleep like that. I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it’s the sea air.’
He was looking at her with unconcealed amusement. ‘It certainly can’t be the exercise—although not for want of trying.’
Why could he make her blush so easily?
His gaze swept down over her, taking in the skimpy bikini top and minute denim hotpants. ‘Before we go ashore, would you like to get changed into something a little more … discreet?’
‘Oh, yes. Silly me. I’ll just go and choose something from the selection of cruisewear I packed in preparation for this trip, shall I?’
‘I’m sure I can find something that would fit.’
‘Why, Angelo, how fascinating. Do you have a large selection of ladies’ clothes in your wardrobe?’
‘No, but I have a number of visitors to the yacht who’ve left things.’
‘Oh, puh-leese. If you think I’m going to wear something belonging to one of your harem of mistresses, you can think again.’
‘I don’t know why you find the thought so unpleasant, tesoro. I recall that last night you were pretty keen to join them. Anyway, if you’re going to be stubborn …’
She looked at him for a moment, speechless with humiliation and loathing.
‘Let’s